Spiral by Andy Remic

thumping beats rising up the wide sweeping stairs at the end of the plushly carpeted corridor and coming from the huge ballroom - and the gentle lure of Beethoven from Maria’s room. Carter pulled free his Browning 9mm HiPower. He checked the thirteen rounds in the clip, then checked the other five clips he carried about his body. Seventy-eight rounds in total. Carter liked to be prepared. As he had often told Roxi: ‘I don’t want to die because I ran out of fucking bullets.’
    The door opened. Maria appeared - stunning in a white dress that showed off her pale complexion and dark hair.
    ‘You ready?’ asked Carter kindly, sensing her fear.
    Maria took a deep breath. She knew - as well as he did, as well as the many agents positioned around the house and grounds - that tonight was a golden opportunity for assassins. If they were for real and not just a hollow blackmail attempt. An empty threat. A hoax...
    ‘Do not leave me tonight. Not for one moment.’
    ‘So you’ll accompany me to the toilet?’ she laughed.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Really?’
    Carter smiled. ‘Yes. Prime location for attack - it is the one moment when, shall we say, a person’s guard is truly down.’
    They went down the luxurious wide staircase, with its thick carpets and carved oak banisters. The walls were richly decorated with plaster frescoes inlaid with gold. Q Division obviously paid well.
    Carter had instructed Maria Balashev earlier that evening: no leaving the house, no alcohol, and no picking up young - or old - men. If Maria wanted to live through this potential threat then she had to minimise complications.
    Fucking parties, thought Carter.
    Fucking Feuchter! Stubborn bastard - stupid bastard!
    A hundred and thirty guests. Carter had almost shot Feuchter himself when Hans Jesmar, head of the German security operation, had handed him the slip of paper.
    People mingled. Servants with trays of drinks circulated and Carter’s gaze swept across the large, gaudily decorated suite. Rich velvet curtains hung to the floor, obscuring the view of any outside observers - and of any long-range snipers.
    Carter stayed close to Maria. She knew many of the people who had arrived and Carter allowed the conversations to flow over him. If anybody approached or spoke to him he was curt to the point of rudeness. He did not want conversation - it distracted him.
    He watched. Maria socialised and, like a good girl, stayed off the champagne.
    Feuchter, obviously suffering a little from stress, was drunk and being loud and abusive in a corner. Carter checked the squad monitor. Everything was OK.
    The woodland surrounding Castle Schwalenberg -swathes of deciduous and conifer trees that rose and fell, following the slopes and dramatic contours of the land -spread out for miles. Several rough narrow trails, littered with fallen trees and branches, criss-crossed forest, but on this dark and rain-filled night nothing seemed to move except thick branches swaying in the wind, and rain running in violent rivulets down the knobbled bark of trees.
    A deep rumble cut through the gloom, and four black vehicles crept smoothly across the forest floor. Heavy wheels crushed branches and negotiated fallen trees with 4X4 ease ... slowly the Land Cruisers came to a halt, strung out in a line.
    Engines died.
    Silence crept back.
    Doors opened, and dark figures climbed swiftly free of their metal confines. They moved stealthily forward and crouched, peering through the trees towards Castle Schwalenberg, its lights glittering with promise in the distance.
    The line of shadows bristled with weapons.
    There were various clicks as magazines were slotted home.
    Copper-eyed stares met; silent commands were exchanged; and slowly, with an infinite and precise care, the column of armed killers moved off through the undergrowth, untroubled by the rain and the threat of death to come.
    Friedrich squatted beside the bush, listening to the commands issued by Jesmar. He hoisted the rifle, the